kiss it better
by racketeering
Summary: She had severely misunderstood Zeldris from the start. This wasn't a game to him – it had never been a game. gelda/zeldris.


**kiss it better**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It doesn't take long for Gelda to see the pointlessness of existence – if it can even be called that. The days blend ceaselessly into years and she learns to hold herself like a person with purpose.

There is no escaping this curse. There is no escaping the seal.

And – worst of all – there is no escaping the bitter loneliness that accompanies her like a shadow. She wears it now, she flaunts the passive coolness she has become so famous for.

She hasn't always been like this. No, there was a time…

She presses her hands together, her unfeeling, icy hands, and suppresses the memories of a life lived with resolve.

.

.

.

The Vampire Clan wasn't famous for really anything – to the goddesses, they were parasites. Bugs under the feet of a superior race. To the demons, they were a means to an end. To everyone else, they were a story – a cautionary tale told to the children at night to frighten them into behaving themselves.

There weren't many of them at the time, simply because turning people into vampires took effort and time, two things the vampires were short on.

Gelda remembered when she was turned – decades ago, she was a nobody. Now she was somebody – but becoming somebody in the vampire world took careful planning and execution that was rarely successful. She built her reputation off of her astounding, ethereal beauty and her aloof personality.

It wasn't hard to climb the ranks of the vampiric royal family. She herself might've described it as _easy_ at the time, but in time, the ease faded. Wars, death, and destruction eroded her cold exterior so you could almost see the _cracks_ – the alabaster memory of a girl with humanity. She painted over the cracks, sure that no one could see through.

Until someone did.

.

.

.

The appearance of the demon clan's famed executioner, at first, wasn't anything special. The vampires regarded him with a begrudging respect – the best they could offer, frankly – and Gelda was too busy presenting to notice him at all.

His eyes were a cold deep violet – and that was the first thing Gelda remembered about him. He was more of an entity, a looming threat of the demon clan's authority than an actual living being.

But he noticed her.

Gelda could feel his eyes on her whenever the room was full – at the most inopportune moments, his gaze would drag across her figure, whether out of lust, or interest, the action was always deliberate.

Gelda's first thought was to use him – manipulate the poor fool. A puppet from deep within the ranks of the demon clan could put her high in favor with the vampire king. Jumping rank was always a priority for her. There was nothing else she could do to distract her from the rotting emptiness from deep within her.

But Zeldris proved to be the most unwilling manipulation subject she'd ever encountered. His intellect surpassed most vampire men, which made her influence over him rocky at best. His determination to not be controlled was enviable.

The worst part, she soon discovered, was his horrifying ability to see straight through her. Gelda could not hide from those penetrating dark eyes.

But he could not hide from her either.

.

.

.

"You were human once." He stated, his words directed at her, even though they were surrounded by hundreds of other vampires. It was always her, she was always singled out. Not that she minded – lately the only thing keeping Gelda alive was her occasional banter with the demon prince.

She glanced at him sideways. Her grip nearly faltered on her goblet of venous wine at the pure intrusion of the statement – in vampire society, past human lives were not to be spoken of. They were somewhat of a taboo.

"I was," she responded off-handedly, faking disinterest. It was the best she could do with Zeldris now, his irritating skill of seeing through her venomous front was starting to grind on her nerves. "Although it's been quite some time."

"I can imagine." Zeldris looked up at her, expression unreadable. Abruptly, he began to walk towards the back of the castle, away from prying eyes. Gelda, unsure if he meant for her to follow, stared at him placidly.

He looked back at her from several feet away. "Gelda." He stated. So he did mean for her to follow. But he never asked – no, Zeldris was not someone who _needed_ to ask. But neither was she.

If it were anybody else, Gelda would not tolerate the lack of respect. Vampires were prudent creatures. But Zeldris was not. Zeldris saw everything, and seemed to know everything.

And she was obsessed. Never had she known someone who could match her act – who could play with her like she could play with him. For so long, she was playing a game of chess alone – moving the pawns out of sheer boredom – and now she had an opponent. An opponent who was winning.

And yet – and _yet_ , she wanted the upperhand so badly she was willing to play into his hands. She was too far gone.

She followed.

By the time they were alone, Gelda could feel his smirk before she could see it. She could almost see the word _checkmate_ form onto his curled lips.

"Gelda," he began, and she almost wished she hadn't sat down. Now they were even height-wise. A mistake on her part. He suddenly continued.

"You're a very good actress." He stated, looking at her like he'd discovered something priceless.

"I like to think so." She responded, unwilling to let him win, _yet_.

"How long will it be, I wonder," he questioned aloud, 'before your vampire brethren discover what a fraud you are."

She blinked calmly. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised she was even putting up a fight. Gelda figured he, somewhat like her, wasn't used to seeing a spark of life in his victims.

How ironic, that the spark of life should come from someone so dead inside.

"I can see it. I'm no fool." He suddenly grasped her chin with surprising gentleness. He stared into her, seeing the women who lay beneath the marble surface. "The human woman still lives within you. Pathetic."

She has to steel herself in order to not retaliate sharply at the insult. He was trying to rile her up – it was all apart of the game.

"You're the fool." She dared to reply. "If you see the human in me, then I see the boy inside of you. You're afraid."

He glared at her insubordination and released her chin from his compromising grip.

"You cannot see something that doesn't exist." He said coldly. "I'm afraid your fantasies have overtaken your mind, Gelda."

The way he growled her name was positively electrifying. The raw power that surged through his voice gave Gelda the high – the high of being purely alive. It was a feeling she'd been lacking ever since the last drop of human blood fell from her body.

"I see no fantasies." Gelda corrected. "Only what is before me, _Zeldris._ "

She watched him suppress a shiver and reveled in the power she had over him.

"Gelda…" he insisted, his voice dropping the overtone of play. He was serious. "You _continue_ to play these games – haven't I warned you? I'm not to be toyed with."

Unable to resist the temptation, she smiled, showing off her proof of vampirehood. "Haven't I warned you? I'm not one to be _warned_."

His gloved hand gripped her shoulder, his thumb tracing the blonde hair braided to the side. It was a dangerous submission – one she was not prepared for. The gesture was softly intimate – and certainly not expected. Gelda was suddenly – for the first time in a century – unsure if she and Zeldris were playing the same game.

"Gelda," He spoke with an unwilling fragility, "I'll warn you one last time. I'm being generous."

His hand traveled to her jaw and his finger softly traced it.

She felt it – she suddenly felt _everything_ – every last emotion she hadn't felt since she was just a stupid human girl. She felt heat – need, and most dominant of all – she felt _afraid_.

She had severely misunderstood Zeldris from the start. This wasn't a game to him – it had never been a game.

Her lips parted softly, which he took as an open invitation. Her surrender. He descended on her hungrily, like he'd been starved of her his whole life. She had never been the one to be devoured, and yet, Zeldris managed it so _wonderfully_.

Out of pure shock, her arms wrapped around his neck, anchoring him closer to her face, his lips at the perfect angle to continue to meet hers. Gelda had been kissed before. And this wasn't a kiss – it was a promise. It held meaning – much more meaning than she was willing to accept.

She pulled away softly and he regretfully ceased kissing her. He pulled back for only a moment, before trying to kiss her once more, like he _needed_ her so desperately.

Before he could, Gelda reached up her gloved palm and prevented the kiss from landing.

His eyes narrowed and he looked at her out of confusion – which was warranted. She had responded with more initial vigor than anticipated.

"I…" she stammered, Gelda _did not stammer_ , but the words just refused to form. His dark eyes tore into her, prying her apart. She couldn't take it.

"I _accept_ your warning." She finally pushed out, before standing up abruptly and making her hasty escape.

Zeldris did not follow. He only watched her – those powerful dark eyes tracing her silhouette until she was just a fading memory.

.

.

.

It was a while until she saw him again. Gelda had been perfectly content with forgetting the entire incident in itself – although she couldn't quite escape her longing for him, longing for an equal. A match to her set.

She just wished he hadn't taken it in a different direction.

The truth was – the _real_ truth, that Gelda had known since the moment she opened her eyes as a vampire – that what Zeldris wanted from her wasn't attainable. She had been dead for too long. Too much of her was gone, and what remained of her, of _Gelda_ , was never going to be enough.

She was a ghost now. A ghost with a beautiful shell, but a ghost nonetheless. Zeldris wanted emotion, he wanted life. But you just couldn't get that from a woman who'd been dead longer than she'd been alive.

She'd been rather bored that night. King Izraf was on a drunken rant about how the vampire clan was stronger than anyone knew and how the demon king was a tyrant who wouldn't stand a chance against a vampire such as himself. Ordinarily, to gain favor, this was when Gelda would step in and try to ease the tense atmosphere. Lately however, she had been rather placid, eager to see the vile vampire king get what he deserved. Watching the world burn sounded rather pleasant at this point in time to Gelda.

What she hadn't known was that Zeldris was there. If she'd known, she would've shut the vampire king up the instant the words flew out of his mouth. But she was slipping, no thanks to him. She was distracted, and now she would pay the price.

A pure black, giant hand reached up and slammed the vampire king into his throne, venous wine splashing all over the golden walls surrounding the throne room.

Zeldris walked up to the king, fury blazing in an otherworldly halo around him. The black hand held Izraf in a vice-like grip while Zeldris approached him.

"You _dare_ ," He started, pulling his sword out and pressing it against the King's temple, "…insult the demon king in my presence?" The sword pressed hard enough to draw blood across the king's forehead. The entire throne room had gone silent, and what had been a peaceful gathering of vampiric nobles and high-ranking officers was now witnessing their king being threatened. No one stepped forward to assist the king – they could feel the radiation of energy off of Zeldris and decided they preferred to remain intact.

The vampire king was speechless. He clearly hadn't realized Zeldris was in attendance – he hadn't been present in vampire affairs since…well, since _Gelda._ Not that the other vampires were aware of whet happened between them. That had easily been weeks ago – or maybe months. There was something about being dead that made keeping track of time impossible.

Gelda watched Zeldris with intrigue. His outburst seemed unnatural – forced. Something was going on – something beyond the intoxicated vampire king. Gelda tensed. The room suddenly turned dark.

"You've been a fool," Zeldris spat. "I grow weary of your childish antics. Your association with the demon clan is on thin ice."

The king stayed silent, and Zeldris's sword dipped beneath the king's chin.

"I should _kill_ you where you stand." Zeldris threatened.

Gelda could tell by the lowered octave of his voice that he was dead serious. It was time to intervene, since clearly no one else would. Not that she blamed them – going face-to-face with Zeldris was almost assuredly a death sentence.

Gelda stood and glided up to the throne, feeling people's eyes on her as she moved. She kept her face still. She couldn't reveal a single emotion – not a stray hair out of place. She had to keep up the appearance – of Gelda, the perfect vampire. Beautiful, emotionless Gelda.

By the time she reached the king, Zeldris had already drawn blood. The king was unable to fight back since he was restrained, but she could see the rage in his eyes. The bloodlust between them was mutual.

"Your Highness." Gelda interrupted, causing both Zeldris and the vampire king to turn to her, unsure of which highness she was addressing.

Gelda smiled politely. "Prince Zeldris, I'm afraid our king has had too much to drink. Please forgive his transgressions and allow me to take him to his chambers." She finished, never dropping her mask. Too much was at stake.

Zeldris stared at her, his eyes furious and questioning. She mentally begged him to let her have this one, just this one. The last thing she wanted to see was more bloodshed.

Their gaze held for what felt like forever. She was about to break. She couldn't handle being under his watchful eyes for this long – it was too painful.

Without warning, Zeldris pulled his sword out of the King's neck. He returned his gaze to Gelda, his eyes full of contempt.

"If this happens again – I _won't_ hesitate." He told her harshly. She nodded briefly, trying to maintain her composure, before he swept past her and into the terrified crowd of vampires, who parted like the Red Sea for him.

The giant black hand released the king and he let out a rough cough and his hand flew to his injured neck. Gelda rushed to him and pulled him up by his elbow, desperate to get him out of the limelight.

"Your Majesty," Gelda breathed out, grateful that Zeldris's stifling presence had been lifted. "We have to go."

Izraf looked at her and nodded. They left the throne room with flurries of whispers surrounding them – Gelda knew that it was rumored that she was the King's mistress, and her impromptu rescue only added to the fuel of that fire. The King had expressed interest in her before, but it was only ever for her body, and Gelda had done a sublime job of avoiding that trainwreck for decades.

"Gelda…" The King slurred once they were close to his chambers. "you've always been so loyal to me…my dear…" His hand stroked her hair and she kept her face stony, resisting the urge to smack his hands away.

"Of course, Your Majesty." She responded coolly.

"And beautiful…" He stroked her jaw and she nearly bit his hand off.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." She said, trying to keep her disinterest evident. Last time she had spoken to Zeldris, he had done a similar action, but she recalled it feeling significantly more pleasant coming from him than from the drunken king.

Before the king could manage any other disgusting sentiment, Gelda dropped him off at his chambers. She managed to convince him that he needed rest, and _only_ rest.

Gelda was exhausted by the time the king had left her in the hall. Not only physically, but mentally. The Zeldris predicament had seemingly been causing her more strain than she'd initially thought.

She let out an out-of-character sigh and rubbed her aching temple. She was alone, she could afford to let her guard down.

Out of nowhere, a hand reached forward and grabbed her wrist with painful accuracy. She whipped around, and honestly should've expected to see Zeldris.

"What were you _thinking_?" He demanded to know, eyes blazing. "You could've been killed!"

She fought the urge to laugh. "By who? _You_?"

He glared at her heavily and turned away, his hand still burning a hole through her wrist.

"Gelda….I don't _understand_!" He growled. His hand finally released her wrist and he ran both his hands through his jet-black hair in anger.

She looked down at him, unsure of what he wanted from her. "What don't you understand?"

He looked up, viper-like eyes narrowed. "I don't understand why you _did_ that. You hate him just as much as I do."

Gelda turned. He wasn't _incorrect,_ per se, but of course he didn't understand. He wasn't a vampire.

"I'm not _eager_ to start a war." She annunciated.

" _He_ 's the one who's going to start the war." Zeldris corrected. "I can't protect you forever, Gelda. You _know_ that."

Gelda blinked. He thought he was protecting her? What gave him _that_ idea?

And – most importantly – why was he trying to protect her in the first place?

"I don't need your protection," she dismissed. "And I never asked for it, either."

Zeldris rolled his eyes at her. "Don't be stupid, Gelda. My father is already suspicious of the vampire clan. Word of rebellion is spreading. If Izraf isn't careful, it could result in the extinction of your kind."

Gelda's eyes widened. This was news. She hadn't realized how serious the situation was – the demon king wasn't someone to mess with, despite Izraf's actions. He was a powerful, passionate man. He would not hesitate. Not unlike the goddess clan, Gelda was sure the vampires were nothing but dirt beneath his boot. The genocide of her kind wasn't far-fetched.

"Zeldris…" she started. Just how much had he protected the vampire clan? Just how much had he protected _her_?

"You have to know…" he said softly, his hand gently grasping her upper arm. "You have to know…I did it for you."

Gelda's breathing rate increased sharply. He couldn't do this to her again. She couldn't take it.

"Zeldris…I can't…" She murmured. His hand brushed some of her hair over her shoulder and his thumb rubbed circles on her collarbone. She couldn't resist a shiver at the intensity of his touch.

"Why not?" He asked her, his eyes meeting hers. "What do we have left to lose?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood. She wanted him. The feeling was surely mutual since she could feel the raw electricity between them, but still.

"I can't be what you want me to be." She told him.

"You don't have to be anything." He assured her, his hand grazing her left cheek with calculated precision.

"But I do," she insisted. She felt something rise in her throat – her eyes burned. Pain like this was unimaginable. "Just let me go, Zeldris. I'm already dead."

Zeldris's eyes widened and he shook his head in disbelief. "You can't believe that, Gelda. You – you're –"

" _Thank you_ ," she interrupted, before he could say anything to break her heart even further. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, really…but I…"

"I'd do it again," he stated, pulling himself ever closer to her, making escape impossible. "I'd do it again and again and _again_ for you, Gelda…why can't you see that?"

Gelda stared at him, her knees buckling. How could this have happened? How could her façade come crashing down upon her so spectacularly? All because of him…

She dropped to her knees, finally, and cradled her head in her hands. He had finally broken her. He followed diligently, pulling her hands away from her head and pulling them to his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, fluttering rapidly. If she had a heartbeat, she was sure the rhythms would match.

"I'll always protect you," he said softly. "I'll do it, because I-"

She cut him off, she couldn't bear to hear him say it. She kissed him like she was dying, like part of her was still alive and could really love him back.

And for a moment, she _was_ alive.

He kissed her back fervently, like their relationship had just hit fever pitch and he could do nothing but this. His arms encircled her, threatening to never let go. She fisted the back of his hair. It was worth it. _He_ was worth it.

He was everything – he was surrounding her, the air, the ground, she tasted him on her tongue like oxygen.

And she thought to herself in the moment – _this_ is what it felt like to be alive. This was purpose. This was light in a world of darkness.

She didn't think she'd ever be able to let go of him – now that she had him.

.

.

.

"How could you let this happen?"

His voice was low, shaking. He was beyond furious, he was feeling too much.

Gelda didn't answer. The truth was, she couldn't have stopped it even if she wanted to, but she hadn't been adamant enough. She'd been distracted. Caught up in the moment, she'd been too _happy_ to imagine that everything would come crumbling down before them.

Zeldris couldn't protect her now.

"By order of the great Demon King," Zeldris began, black flames erupting from his fingers as he unsheathed his sword, "the vampire clan is to be _exterminated_ by my hand due to insubordination," he snarled.

Gelda refused to show any emotion. She could see him, tearing at the seams. All she wanted was to hold him, to promise him that everything would be fine – but she cared abut him too much to lie like that.

"Zeldris…" She didn't have an explanation. Her hand cupped the back of his neck and she pushed his forehead against her. One final intimate gesture before her imminent demise in mere hours.

"I _can't_ lose you." He said, for what felt like the millionth time. His hands reached up to hold her face closer to his, unwilling to break contact.

Gelda felt a remorseful smile play across her lips. "But you have to."

He said nothing, just shut his eyes, freezing the memory into his mind so he wouldn't forget the feel of her skin and the sweet smell of her hair.

"Zeldris…there's something I have to tell you…" Gelda murmured, stroking his hair gently while trying to find a way to say goodbye to the only person who gave her meaning in her miserable existence.

"Even…even though our time together wasn't nearly long enough, I…" she trailed off, almost feeling the burn of tears threatening to pour. "I want to thank you for…making me feel alive."

"You _are_ alive." His eyes were hard when they looked into hers – daring her to argue with him.

"Not for long."

Zeldris stared at her. He looked like he wanted to either cry, or scream at her. Probably the latter.

"I was alone." He told her, his hands sliding down her arms until they seated themselves comfortably around her waist. "But you…you made me…"

"I know." She reminded him. Truly, nothing needed to be said between them. It was all out there already.

"I can't do this alone." He said, and that was when he cracked. He pressed his face into her shoulder and she could feel his tears. She was too numb to cry with him. She knew if she cried they would both be lost for good. She had to stay strong for him – just in this moment.

She could cry all she wanted in hell.

.

.

.

"We accept our punishment." Ren, the vampiress next to Gelda, proudly exclaimed. She was a fool, always had been. She stood by Izraf no matter what, and now she would die for it.

And Gelda would die for it, too. Even though she _didn't_ stand with Izraf.

"Do your _worst_ , demon prince." Ren taunted.

Gelda could tell from where she was standing that Zeldris was _suffering_ , this was the kind of anguish that wouldn't fade for centuries, or maybe ever.

Gelda just smiled softly at him. She silently begged for someone, _anyone_ , to spare him this pain and to just _get this over with_.

She wished a million different things, in that moment before she was to be murdered by the only person she'd ever loved. She wished for Zeldris to have loved _anyone_ but her. She wished for his mourning to be short. She wished that she had been killed that night instead of turned into the monster she was now.

She wished that she had told him she loved him.

She took one last, long look at him. He was so beautiful, even in his state of pure grief.

When she closed her eyes then, she knew it was over.

And it was.

.

.

.

Gelda knows now that you _can't_ , you can't go back to feeling nothing after feeling _everything_.

.

.

.

So why bother feeling anything at all?

.

.

.

 **aka gelda had depression**

 **i know like 56% of this isn't canonically accurate but? to be honest i have not written anything in literally a year and a half, so….this was just kind of a stress reliever i guess. i adore zeldris and gelda so take this as u will. lots of love xo**


End file.
